Ordinary Style
by SunShark
Summary: Jazz needs some love too! And you have to admit, she'd get right along with Arkham with all the psychoanalysis she does - get a job there? No...but she'll meet some of the other crazies. And their respective keepers. Guess Amity wasn't the only wierd one.
1. Chapter 1

So, this is something I've wanted to get published for a while, not entirely satisfied with the writing style (it's a bit immature and bland), so I'll probably end up rewriting it at some point, but let's see out it goes first.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, and if I did I wouldn't be worrying about scholarships. Also, I haven't watched either show for a while, so forgive me if some of the facts are wrong.

* * *

Barbara Gordan sighed as the sweet aroma of coffee wafted toward her face. Adding another healthy dollop of soft white, she stirred and took a small sip, glancing at her fellow redhead as she did.

Jazz Fenton was a reasonably nice, if not slightly eccentric girl. She had brains, beauty, and an over-abundance of college acceptance letters. Here in Gotham, though, she was yet another damsel who got leered at by the numerous creeps lining the street corners.

Which is why Barbara took it upon herself to make sure her friend was in good hands for the rest of her stay.

It was quite funny how they got together, actually. Beginning in her senior year, her humanities class required them to communicate with a student from out of state for a month, to expand their knowledge of 'people and their differing conditions throughout the country compared to Gotham', or something like that. She picked a name out of the box, and low and behold, she was paired with a "Jasmine Fenton", of some small town in Illinois.

Once they were past the pleasantries, communication somewhat pattered off. The teachers were expecting a report on their pen pal's area, so she grudgingly and dutifully fired off the basic "What's your school like?" "What classes do you take?" "What do you do in your spare time?" etc. in her first email (please, pen pal's with actual letters? What was this, the Stone Age?). Between her classes and her nighttime patrolling as Batgirl, she honestly didn't expect more than the barest, most basic answers. In fact, it had nearly slipped her mind.

Until she got a reply, two days later. A very _lengthy_ reply. Filled with details and play-by-play examples and extremely (did she mention already) detailed analysis that bordered the psychological babble of Arkham. An extremely elaborate description of the school's social hierarchy (similar to her own, only more…expressive) included the general behaviors of each of the classes; jocks, preps, nerds, geeks, yadda-yadda-yadda. Notable was one Dash Baxter, whom she understood was the school bully, whose favorite punching bag was in fact her contact's younger brother. There were various other musings on possible reasons for his behavior, citing conditions such as superiority and inferiority complexes, possible agencies that could curb said behavior, and the life ahead of him if he didn't shape up.

It was…interesting. Barbara was hard put to match the reply in length, struggling to answer some of her contact's more specific questions (she hadn't paid that much attention on civilian behavior, since it wasn't nearly as notable as that of villains like Mad Hatter or Two face. Was it even important?). She guessed that this person had also been assigned a paper as well. She just hadn't imagined anyone could be so…excited, for a project like this.

Towards the end of the reply, there was a note. "P.S. – My friends call me Jazz" her contact wrote. Fine with her. Fingers flashing over the keys, she added her own message. "Call me Babs", she had typed.

Jazz had been ecstatic. Barbara received a reply twice as long as the first, this one including physical signs of mental conditions and thought process (various aspects of twitching, sweating, and flashing eyes were noted), as well as Jazz's own analysis of Barbara's peers.

Armed with her new knowledge, she managed to kick the trigger out of one of the Joker's hostages' hands before he let loose out of desperation, before anyone noticed he had a gun. Batman hadn't said anything, but she was pretty sure she'd heard a grunt of approval. Dick certainly hadn't stopped pestering her on "how'd you know?".

She included this experience in her reply, with a bit of editing, of course. Stopping a…a freshman, yes, from…from throwing a punch back at a bully, that sounds like it would fit…which would have resulted in both their expulsions. Maybe the 'freshman' was feeling cornered, and therefore lashed out, like a wounded animal, she typed, keyboard clicking away before a dainty pinky hit _ENTER_.

Jazz agreed, adding that physically acting out could have been the freshman's way of regaining control in his life, as his mentality may have been slipping with each beating incident. She then asked whether the freshman had shown signs of previous victimizations, listing off the symptoms line after line; increased make-up usage (for bruises), more extreme behavior (like OCD or extreme disorganization, tardiness, etc.), a sudden jumpiness in the hallways with fewer people around. Finally, she asked if the freshman was seeing a psychiatrist or school counselor yet.

Barbara felt bad for concocting the story, as this 'Jazz' person actually seemed to care for her made-up victim's wellbeing. Well, he wasn't _completely_ made-up. She resolved to check up on the victim later.

She replied. "He hasn't seen a counselor yet. In fact, it seems like he's trying to forget the incident ever happened".

Batman was slightly surprise (not that it showed) when she asked him who the victim was. He obliged, though, and nothing else stood in the way of her reconnaissance, both in person and online.

She _happened_ to leave some of Jazz's other questions unanswered. Bab's figured her role as a bystander-turned-hero gave enough of an excuse not to know the guy personally.

Jazz was not to be fooled. Instead of lowering the intensity of her questioning, she pressed on, asking other questions that Barbara probably could have answered, if she had been describing the real victim. Instead, her replied were muddled and vague, making Jazz all the more suspicious. Finally, she relented, saying that the freshman-bully situation was only an analogy to a more serious incident, that she would _not_ be delving into (for the sake of both the victim and her secret identity).

Jazz stopped at that, and they moved onto calmer, safer topics. Apparently Jazz was a psychiatrist in training (like she couldn't figure that out), often finished her homework at the library, volunteered at a variety of clubs and events, and occasionally frequented the Nasty Burger, a fast food restaurant that in fact did serve edible and slightly nutritious foods. Barbara on the other hand revealed that she was interested in law and crime, would sometimes work with the police (if nighttime vigilanting counted), occasionally lived in the library, liked the color green, and disliked coconuts.

Somewhere along the way, they became friends.

"Babs, you okay?"

She snapped out of her musings. Wide blue eyes stared at her from across the table, filled with concern.

"Huh?" she replied intelligently. Jeez, Batman would go off again about immature girls and heroing if he ever caught her spacing out like that. Steam clouded her glasses, and she absently wiped them against her cotton tee.

The question finally registered. "Oh. No, I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, brushing off the concern with a wave. Jazz examined her a bit longer before giving a nod and returning to the newspaper, her own mug of coffee leaning against her bottom lip.

"Looks like Batman's getting more positive reception," Jazz commented, eyes scanning the news article and picking away at the verbal discrepancies of the journalists. Her mug landed with a soft *clink* on the table, freeing her hand to readjust her signature blue headband.

Barbara snorted. Oh yeah, the public kept changing its mind on the batclan every other week. It was mostly Batman this, and Batman that, but she could still see smatterings of Robin and Batgirl. It was so nice to feel loved.

She glanced at the clock. 10:30 am, the red numbers blazed. "Ready to go?" she asked, putting down her own mug. Jazz followed suit, and the two were soon out the door, bags over their shoulders. Barbara locked the door with a faint *click*.

* * *

If you wondered why some of the psychological stuff sounded familiar, try paying attention to your guidance counselor. Or your health teacher. I'm not going into psychology, and don't know the terms, so if you have any info, feel free to message me.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, so the story just takes a while to get rolling. The first chapter's just a little too impersonal, making it harder to swallow, so I tried easing it with this one.

* * *

It was a gloomy day as ever in Gotham, black towers looming over the busy pedestrians below. The atmosphere was always a little bleak and grey, but that Barbara was used to. It was actually one of the better days, as she knew the majority of the insane homicidal maniacs were safely behind bars.

Surprisingly, Jazz was taking the atmosphere in stride, strolling along, giving no indication of having come from a smaller, sunnier town. Barbara had warned her of the slightly depressing feel of the streets while they were arranging her stay over spring break, but here she was now, going on like any other denizen, casually skirting the street corners and alleys of grubby, homeless men, staying safely in the masses.

Huh. Well, she _did_ say her home town had a decent amount of crime. How much crime could you get with a population of under 5,000 anyway?

"_Ivy…she's a plant nut…Harley Quinn…Joker's assistant…Joker…insane homicidal maniac number one…basically everyone you don't ever want to meet."_

"_All in one place?"_

"_Yep. The appear in the papers every now and then, whenever they break out. Otherwise you can tell by their signature weapons."_

"_Like…?"_

"_Joker has his laughing gas, Harley Quinn has a hammer, Ivy has a bunch of plants…"_

"_Plants? That's not very dangerous."_

"_Unless they're twenty feet tall and move on her every whim. Those vines are tough!"_

"_She…controls them? Through some sort of chemicals, or wires, rights?"_

"_Well...I dunno, it's almost psychic, you know."_

"_Don't be silly, there's no such thing as the super-natural! I'm sure there's a perfectly scientific and logical reason behind this."_

"…_sure."_

"_You sure know about this stuff. Do you get caught up in it often?"_

(Barbara wiped her brow. For a moment, she thought – well, guess not)

"_er, yeah. Unfortunately."_

"_Yeah, I can sympathize."_

"_You can?"_

"_It's like I'm in a perfectly lovely lecture on the wonders of the human psyche, and suddenly these little blue and green guys burst through the walls and scare the teacher off."_

"_Wait, they come _through_ the walls?"_

"_No, of course not. They were probably light projections on the wall to make it look like they were walking through the wall."_

"_You have those things at your school?"_

"_I'm sure some student who wanted to get out of class did it."_

"_Didn't you say they were popping up all over town as well?"_

"_Maybe that same student is playing a prank."_

"_You also mentioned property damage before…"_

"_Fine then! Guys in costumes wrecking buildings and being the hooligans they are!"_

"_Flying…"_

"…_on wires, then!"_

"_You know how you sound like you're in denial, right?"_

"_GHOSTS DON'T EXIST! I'm sick of all the babble of 'ghost this' or 'ghost that'! There are no ghosts, there is no 'Inviso-bill', and that's that!"_

"…_Your parents, right?"_

"_You have no idea. It's like my brother and I are the only sane ones in the family."_

(Barbara paused, fingers twitching from the sudden lack of movement. The chat screen hummed before her. Weird families…her mentor dressed like a giant bat, heck, _she_ dressed as a giant bat, and her pseudo-brother was constantly decked out in Christmas tree colors.)

"_Sorry, can't help you there. So…Inviso-bill?"_

(She swore she heard Jazz sigh on the other end.)

"_Yeah, a stupid name that my parents came up with. And now poor Danny can't go anywhere without dealing with all the inane chatter. He's _terrified_ by all the nonsensical talk but does anyone hear me? Nooo…"_

Danny. Jazz really loved her younger brother. From the sound of things, he was a timid guy who always got picked on and had a knack for finding trouble. Barbara pondered the outcome of a meeting between him and Dick.

…Actually, never mind. Those two will never approach the batmobile with marshmallows. Ever.

Even if the meeting might build Danny's confidence a bit more. His story sounded a lot like Dick's old cover-up façade, and there he could at least defend himself.

And she didn't exactly have a reason to know a freaking _billionaire's_ son anyway.

"You remember my report on ghost envy? I've finally collected enough research to expand it to a proper documentation. One of the reasons why ghosts show up so often in Amity could be because people actually believe they exist there, and their sub-ectoplasmic consciousness picks up on those thoughts and are hence drawn to them," Jazz babbled, fully awake now from her coffee boost. She was flipping through the rack of headbands, quickly finding one in the exact shade she was wearing.

The mall was pretty crowded for the morning. Then again, it _was_ break, and the mall was always a popular hangout. Barbara browsed through a rack of tees. Not much was new here, they were still selling the "Green Day, American Idiot" tees from last month.

She absently noted the quality of the shirts. Mainly cotton, casual style, in good condition despite being on the clearance rack. And they were so soft to feel; soft and fuzzy, with a faint hint of lint dust mixed with the perfume they always spray on the cloth to help hide its faults.

She felt something…coarser? Stiffer? There was no way this store would be selling suits, or formal shirts for that matter. Was it misplaced here? Stolen? Oh, please don't say it's an illegal market on cheap suits, that's just ridiculous…yet she wouldn't put it past Gotham to have such. She did _not_ want to deal with this in the morning…

"Uh, Babs? You can stop feeling me up now, you know. I'm always here for you!"

Barbara reflexively punched through the clothes rack, and was rewarded by a muffled yelp. Shortly after, a spiky head of black hair poked its way out of the sleeves.

"Dick, what the heck are you doing here!" Barbara hissed. "And why are you wearing that!" Count on your brother to pop up when you least expect it.

Dick shrugged, worming his way out of the cloth. "Just left a breakfast meeting, did you know Meier Levins puts make-up on her pets? I've never seen a Chihuahua with eyebrows that huge. So not astrous…" he quailed slightly under Barbara's pointed look. "Okay, blame a guy for being bored. Who's the chic?"

"Friend. Out of state."

Dick winced at her tone. Someone can't take a joke.

"Okay…any idea why she's carrying a soup can in her purse?"

* * *

Better? Reviews would be much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

And the third installment is up! Sorry is Barbara is a little OOC, I've never paid too much attention to her.

* * *

It was true. The metallic sheen of the Fenton Thermos gleamed from the gap of her purse, looking too large to even fit. Jazz, oblivious, was now striking up conversation with the sales clerk, who seemed eager to flee from the talk regarding the store's advertising campaign.

Barbara calmed down slightly. The Thermos was a mystery to her as well. Apparently it had something to do with her parent's ghost-hunting weaponry, but Jazz had always insisted that ghosts didn't exist. _Had_, in any case. She wasn't sure what had changed, but it seemed like Danny was involved again.

_[Flashback]_

"_Hey Babs?"_

_She could hear Jazz's hesitant tone even through the phone's static. She swore she would get her dad to do something about it; she was hopeless with home electronics._

"_What's up Jazz?"_

_Static filled up the silence. Since they had finally exchanged phone numbers, Jazz more or less talked non-stop, always striving to fill the quiet. She wondered what had happened._

"_Well…"_

_Barbara waited. Rushing people didn't work that well, after all._

"_How would you react if your brother had been doing something really, really, dangerous, behind your back, but it's actually something good but you've been accusing him of doing something bad and so has everyone else but now you know but he doesn't know you know and…"_

_Wait what? Danny was doing drugs? It was hard to believe the sweet, shy boy Jazz had pictured for her going down that street. But…something good? Not drugs? Huh?_

"_Arghh! I'm going about this all wrong!"_

"_Got that right. My head's spinning. Mind talking slower?'_

_Jazz paused on the phone. Must be taking deep breathes._

"_How would you react knowing something your brother didn't want anyone else to know/'_

"_Well…" Barbara immediately though of her father. Did he know what she did at night? Oh god, if he did…_

"_Do you trust him?"_

"_Yes." Jazz said with conviction. Looks like she got her confidence back._

"_Then trust that he'll do the right thing, and support him when he needs it." It was what she wanted, in any case. Her case was pretty extreme compared to Jazz's, though; same core essential?_

"…_Barbara?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Thanks."_

_[End Flashback]_

"Maybe she brought soup?" Barbara replied. She honestly had no clue what could be in such a thermos. It was _huge_.

Jazz was walking away from them now, striding to the counter to make her purchase. Dick used the opportunity to pull her close and whisper, "What about the guns in her luggage, then?"

Barbara started to push him away, but stopped at his message. "What guns? Wait, how do you know what's in her luggage?"

Dick pointed upwards vaguely. "The bat sees all," he deadpanned, and she couldn't help but nod at that.

Barbara frowned. Jazz had finished her purchases, and was coming back here, humming happily. From her angle, she probably hadn't seen Dick yet.

"Jazz is a good person," Barbara started.

"Tell that to Bruce," her brother shrugged helplessly.

By the time she turned around, he was gone.

"Two guns, too high tech for a middle class family. Fully charged with ectouranium, blasts likely powerful enough to punch holes in a brick wall and give 2nd degree burns to humans. That thermos looks suspicious as well," Batman growled.

Barbara – no – Batgirl sighed, tugging on her cowl. The bright computer screens provided plenty of light for the cave, highlighting various trophies and equipment. On the screen itself were outlines of the two weapons, revolving to give a 3D image.

"She's a good person!" Batgirl insisted. "It's probably something her parents gave her just in case of a ghost attack! Amity park is supposed to be crawling with ghosts, maybe they're paranoid or something!". 'Like you' was left unsaid.

The dark knight swiveled in his chair, narrowing his eyes. "She had specifically stated that she didn't believe ghosts existed. Her evident personality would have followed this belief and left such items at home."

"Evident personali…." Batgirl sputtered. "You monitor my email?"

Batman ignored the comment. "The internet is a popular place for false personas. Have you ever checked her claims?" He tapped a few keys, and the mainframe immediately pulled up a recent news article.

_**AMITY PARK NEW WEEKLY**_

_THE HUNT GOES ON! March 11, 2009_

_Local menace, Phantom ("Formerly known as "Inviso-bill") is at it yet again. After an entire relatively ghost-free week, Phantom has finally returned, this time with his 10 foot tall ghostly robot friend, to wreck havoc upon the local high school. This time, the two managed to destroy the entire east wing and a chemistry lab, forcing both students and staff to a temporary vacation while the fire department clears out the chemical fumes. No persons were injured in this most recent attack. However, public opinion seems split on the exact role of our little haunt, despite his attempts to stall their education.._

_ "Phantom's awesome!" cheers local Latino cheerleader Paulina Sanchez. "He's like, the best thing that ever happened o this dump! I bet he was just tearing through the school, room by room, searching for his true love." She points to herself, "Me"._

_ "What the! No, they're not friends!" cries local Goth activist, Samantha Manson. "Hey, there is no way I'm being called 'Samantha'. It's 'Sam'! Anyway, Phantom was trying to save us! Skulker was attacking, and Phantom stopped him! Why can't you get it through your thick heads that he's a hero!"_

_ The students are all very enraptured by Phantom, perhaps spurred on by the ghost's youthful appearance and good looks. From designer dolls to potential girlfriends, they are actively leading a 'Support Phantom' group, who numbers grow larger each day._

_ The adults on the other hand think differently._

_ "He's definitely a menace," declares self-proclaimed 'ghost-hunter' Jack Fenton. "Don't fall for his act," adds his wife, Madeline Fenton, as she wipes down a rather large and menacing blaster. "He's only trying to fool Just wait till we get out hands on him and tear him apart molecule by molecule!"_

_ The Fenton's, being the local ghost experts, have largely been denounced as crackpots up until the massive outbreak of malevolent ghosts last year, this day marking its anniversary. It is questionable as to whether or not their 'anti-ghost' weaponry work effectively, but they certainly can cause as much damage to property and people as the ghosts themselves. We ask whether this sort of weaponry would be available to the adults and children affected daily by the ghost attacks._

_ "Definitely not," replies Madeline. "Well, maybe the adults, but not the children! These are weapons containing highly voluble ecto-uranium, we can't have children handling those! Though maybe some of the scaled-down versions…"_

_ Thus it appears her children are the exception. We now come across their daughter, Jasmine Fenton, blasting away at a floating, glowing green octopus. Jasmine, the reputedly most sensible and down-to-earth girl known to mankind, gladly gave us her views as well._

_ "What?" she turns, mini-blaster firmly in her grasps. "I'm not – I mean, this wasn't – I'm not supposed to – actually, I think I hear someone calling me. Bye!"_

_ We now turn to…._

Black gloves flashed over the keyboard, and another screen popped up, this time titled "Amity's Local Hero – Missing?"

"This article was released the same date as when your 'friend' left for Gotham," Batmen growled, the light from the screen doing nothing to brighten his dark cowl. "She also attended the same school while it had been attacked the most, and has positive ties with this 'Phantom's main supporters".

Batgirl gapped. "You mean you think….Phantom's a BOY!"

"You can't know for certain," the Dark Knight snapped, closing both windows with a flick. He stood, and his cape swirled around him, cloaking him like a shadow. "We don't know which side it's on. Either way, it's dangerous, and there's a possibility it could be here." He stalked toward the black shine at the center of the cave – the Batmobile.

'And I don't deal with danger on a night to night basis' Batgirl fumed. Jeez, what set off his paranoia alarm this much? Jazz had to be innocent – she's too sweet, nerdy, but sweet. And she's a _girl_, for pete's sake, and Phantom's a _guy_, that much was evident from the picture.

And they've been in the same room at the same time before; at least, according to Jazz. Come to think of it, she _had_ encountered cross-gender shape shifters before…but duplication? No way!

And – "Hey, she complained about the ghosts anyway! Why would she complain about stuff she does? Criminals aren't like that!" Batgirl shouted.

"And you're going to let all the good ones get away! Come _on_, Babs!" Her pseudo-brother in tights dashed past her, and she only just realized how far ahead everyone else had gotten.

Something wasn't adding up – because really, Jazz could never be like that. And stupid brothers! This was not a race!

* * *

Yeah, it was kinda short. Please review!


	4. Interlude

__Okay, so I'll admit it's been a while, but most of my AP's are done now, so I've got more free time to write. Freedom! Yes! Though this turned out to be more like a drabble. I don't think I quite captured Jazz's character, but bear with me here. There's probably also a few typos, so if you spot one feel free to message me.

And if you didn't realize, I don't own anything from Danny Phantom or Young Justice.

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_ Gotham City has actually been pretty nice so far. I guess Babs would know the place more intimately than I do, but so far I haven't needed to use the Fenton Anti-Creep stick yet. No floating people, no green ectoplasmic blobs, just your plain old creep on the roadside._

"HEEYAH!"

Jazz swung her handbag in a deadly arc. The thief never stood a chance, wallet dropping as he retreated quickly, bearing a bloody nose. Jazz calmly picked the wallet up and offering it to the stern woman panting behind her, leaning on the wall for support. The woman swiped it back quickly, glaring from beneath the loose hairs that had escaped her bun.

Jazz simply smiled.

_It's like a uni-brow,_ she thought vaguely, glancing at the woman's glasses, while the woman gave a haughty sniff before marching off. Jazz noted a slight limp in her walk, and sympathized; running in high-heels was tough.

She found Barbara leaning against the bookshop entrance, smiling slightly. "What?" she asked.

Barbara just shook her head. "I never took you to be the forward type," she offered.

Jazz giggled. "No way. Just ask anyone back home, I'm never one to sit back and watch. Even if it means I'm talking someone's ear off."

She watched as Barbara smirked towards a bookshelf. Captain Underpants comics? Must be an inside joke.

_ Anyway, it's really great to get to know Babs in person. I mean, telephones and video cams can show tone and facial expression, except it really cuts out a great deal of the body language. And she never did mention a hobby of baking in our emails. I went down for some water at 3:27am and found her, still fresh in pajamas, moaning over a plate of raspberry scones like they were the best thing in the world. And they were goooood, almost as good as mom's._

_ When I complimented her, she blushed and denied it. Must be one of those stabilizing hobbies then, I've read that its common that people dislike drawing attention to those kind of patterns in their lives. Danny's would be his habit of rearranging all the paperclips and thumbtacks by color. Then dad takes them and sticks them into a ghost shape on the wall, so he'll always have something to do._

"So where are they?" Jazz asked. Barbara _had_ woken her up again at eight in the morning (during which they finished off most of the scones and left two for Mr. Gordon) saying they were going to meet some people. After much debate, she ended up shoving the anti-creep stick as well as the thermos in her bag.

She felt somewhat sorry for the guy she bashed with them, but then again he deserved it.

"Yo! Babs! Hot stuff over here – ow!"

A guy with a red cap and leather jacket sauntered up to them, closely followed by a blond with a bag as large as her own, who gave Jazz a winning smile. The bag had a minor dent at the bottom that could be called vaguely head-shaped.

Leather jacket grabbed her hand and kissed it before she could pull away. "Madmoiselle, wee tue meille sua –"

"That's not French!" Blond hair screamed, displaying a ferocious expression again. Jazz watched as the handbag was waved threateningly before the guy's face.

Barbara huffed. "Okay, Jazz, this is Mark and Lenny. You two, meet Jazz. Their siblings by the way." She announced loudly, getting their attention.

Jazz's eyes flashed in recognition. "Oh, your roommate?" She held a hand out to blond – no, Lenny – who shook it easily. "Nice to meet you."

" I see we have matching bags."

"Oh yes, don't they have such lovely aerodynamic qualities?"

Barbara coughed, and Jazz though she saw something shiny in the campus bushes before Barbara moved in front of it. "Yeah, well, Mark has a car and he can probably pick you up if you ever need it. He knows the streets pretty well."

"Not as pretty as you," Mark added, and Jazz sighed inwardly at the cheesiness. "Anyway, as long as it's after 4, I've got the car. Don't be afraid to call me!" He winked.

_ The people here are pretty nice too. I've met two of Babs' classmates, and they're really not so different from the students back home. Mark kinda reminds me of Dash's failed flirting attempts though. Urgh, did not want to recall that…_

_ Anyway, so …scenery! Grey building, grey building, shiny glass, grey building … you know I wonder if there's a correlation between the colors of the scenery and the resulting emotional atmosphere. I mean, evidently most people correlate the color 'grey' with sadness or stoicism, but then again there's an ivory shade that would represent wealth, and then silver does the same, but then 'stone grey' brings to mind bricks and ruin, and then…_

**[removed: four additional pages of ranting]**

Jazz stared at the t-shirt. It depicted a sort-of bat-shaped symbol wearing a Christmas hat. Barbara giggled silently beside her.

"…Isn't batman supposed to be some sort of underworld scare symbol?" she asked, giving the shirt another look before moving on to the next merchandise, a robin-shaped garden gnome wearing a black mask.

"Yup," Barbara chirped, a giggle escaping as someone snorted behind them. "Evil beware, Bat-Clause is watching you!"

Jazz raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Barbara looked like she was having _way_ too much fun with the concept. Must be a Gothamite thing. Still, it's not like there were many side-stores in Amity, and she needed to get souvenirs!

As she moved onto the next item, a cheap mug with a standard Batman symbol, she heard Barbara and a young boy's voice asking the cashier to ring it up. For an urban legend, this buy sure was popular.

_Did you know Gotham's fast food quality is actually better than that of the Nasty Burger? You'd think for a city, they'd have a harder time keeping track, but it's actually a pretty rigid guideline. I wonder what laid the crackdown, the cashier said it's been like this since five years ago. Something must have changed, I'll look into it later._

_ Come to think of it, I haven't met that boy Babs kept mentioning in her emails. I'd love to meet him sometime. And maybe see if all adolescent boys are so careless of their promises to keep in touch. Danny still hasn't returned my call yet, and that was his cellphone! Oh, I'm going to miss him so much in college…_

"So, anywhere else you want to check out?" Barbara asked as they licked their ice-creams in the park. It still surprised Jazz, having a park in the middle of a city. Not like she'd never heard of one, just look at Central Park, but still, so much glass, and steel, and now grass. And trees too.

"Not really, I'm good for today," she replied. City-going was really fun, even better because no one came to scream about ghosts or complain about people in jumpsuits being too loud. She was almost done her ice-cream. If she could finish this without one single weird super/unnatural/other worldly event occurring, her life would be complete.

"Heads up!"

A frisbee soared inches before them, casting a red streak and startling Barbara into fumbling with her own cone. She did manage to catch it in time, but not before a few droplets landed on her shirt.

"Dick!" Barbara gasped.

Disembodied laughter rung about them. Jazz mused at the outburst. "Someone you know?" she asked.

Barbara just sighed. "Don't mind him. Do you have any napkins?" Jazz fished a wad from her pocket. She knew these would come in handy.

_ So, overall, I've had a pretty cool time over here. Maybe tomorrow I should check out some of the allegedly more haunted areas, I did bring plenty of equipment, and – wait, this was suppose to be a ghost free vacation! Damn, I've really been spending too much time at home…_

_ It's been a long day. Say goodnight to Bearbert now! And goodnight!_

_Jazz Fenton_

* * *

Yep, I just realized I used the word 'smile' a lot. There's got to me more synonyms...

Read and Review!


	5. Chapter 4

And I'm finally back! Thanks for all those reviews, hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long!

* * *

"Danny?"

Static.

"Danny? It's two days already!"

No answer.

"Don't make me come back there! Come on, Dann –"

"[Beep] The person 'Danny Fenton' is not available at this time. The mailbox full and cannot accept any messages at this time. [Beep]"

"Darn it!"

Jazz glared at her phone. Honestly, what was going on? According to the news, Amity Park only had the Red Hunter and her parents defending it. Could they be in the ghost zone? What were they doing in there for so long? Her parents must be worried sick!

She was worried sick!

She _told_ him that she would always be there to listen to him, that she would be a big sister and look after him! So why wouldn't he answer his phone? Last time she checked they worked in the ghost zone too!

It hit her. Unless –

*knock* *knock*

"Jazz?"

Jazz quickly schooled her features. She wouldn't bring Babs and her family into this. Danny already worried about his secret so much already. And Babs' dad would have brought in the police, and if _that_ didn't blast everything sky high – well, it wouldn't help anyway!

"Yeah?" she called back.

"You done yet?" Babs' reply sounded a little strained.

Done what? Okay, what was her excuse again? Oh yeah…

She quickly flushed the toilet. "Just a minute!" She shouted. Had it really been that long?

Ten seconds later she walked out the door, Barbara dashing in behind her. The door slammed shut, and a relieved sigh emerged. Jazz twitched, embarrassed.

Whoops.

* * *

"Heeeeyah! Take that! That! And that! And …"

"Hey hot stuff – waaahh!"

Jazz belatedly noticed someone ducking as she swung the arcade gun around. She had definitely gotten better at shooting, but the targets just wouldn't – hold – still! Damn them!

The machine gave a final ping, and 'Game Over' flashed across the screen in bright yellow. Was the yellow supposed to subconsciously cheer up the loser? She hazarded a glance at her score.

…What?! She had definitely done better than last time! And – darn, out of quarters too!

"You know, I never took you as a shooter girl, but I'll dig police chicks too!"

She slammed the gun back into the socket. Then, on second thought, she took it back out and replaced it gently. 'Needless violence was not the answer', she chanted to herself. What time was it anyway?

"Well, anyway, I've got a great ride and great food in mind, all that's missing is a lovely lady…"

Oh, was that Barbara over there? She looked like she's actually good at first person shooters. Her dad was a policeman…maybe they could share tips? Otherwise the Fenton blaster was just going to rot in her bag, forever…she quickly made her way over. Ooh, head shot!

This arcade side trip was definitely a good idea!

"He-hey! Where you going?"

Jazz raised her voice a bit. "Hey Barbara!" she shouted, and saw Babs' head give a slight nod in her direction, absorbed in her own game. Jazz maneuvered her way through the crowd of rowdy teenagers, because she was a nice person and wouldn't shove them just because they did.

Even _if_ one of them almost spilled soda on her shoes -

"EVERYBODY FREEZE!"

Everyone shut up quickly.

Jazz's instincts made her duck for cover. 'Ghosts!' her mind screamed, but there was no dramatic monologue and no bright blue lights, so _what was going on?_

From her position, she couldn't see much, and the low lighting only made it more difficult. It looked like…four guys – no, five, in dark clothing. She inched closer, creeping carefully in the crowd, increasingly conscious of the tense atmosphere. Huh, looks like they had guns too.

Random gunshots sounded. Did they seriously just – but it was another shooter game. The lights splayed over the thugs, making them almost rainbow colored, and it would have been funny if it weren't so serious. Then again, the rest of them were in the rainbow lights as well…

It was like an out-of-body experience, knowing there were killers _right there_, and Jazz vaguely wondered where her fear had run off to. Was this from the adrenaline? Shock? But people didn't move during shock!

Maybe she was still high off the video games then?

…Right, so she had a Fenton Anti-creep stick and a thermos. Jazz flicked a glance at her bag again. Was that all she had? She knew she should have brought the blaster along, but noo, she couldn't aim if her life depended on it could she? Why did she have to inherit dad's aiming skills?

The thugs made it up to the front counter. "Gimme all the money you have!" growled thug one.

"Erm, sir I – I don't haveanycashonme – "

The gun was shoved into the manager's face. His whimper was barely heard over the background noise of the machines.

"Okay! Okay…but we haven't emptied the machines yet this week, so we don't have any cash on hand, so um -"

"Then Open Them Up!"

Jazz watched as the fat balding man fumbled with his keys, stumbling toward the nearest machine, almost five feet from her position. The crowd of teenagers parted before him, meek as mice, and thug two shoved a sack toward the man. Jazz glared at them, hands clenching. Utter jerks! But what to do…

Quarters poured into the bag. Shiny silver, dull silver…Jazz belatedly thought that even with all these coins, they were still quarters either way. Who robs an arcade, seriously?

Her hand crept toward her bag. Maybe, if she could get the creep stick out fast enough, she could at least knock out the thug closest to her – was it thug three or thug one? They all looked the same. She only noticed the slight tremor in her hand when it took three tries to open the bag's latch.

Somewhere, a dinosaur roared over the screen, and the thugs all turned toward it. The stick felt cool under her sweating fingers. _They were looking away…_

But a hand closed over her own, and she flinched.

* * *

Yeah, couldn't resist the cliff hanger. I'm I using these line thingies correctly? Can't remember if it was one space or none...


End file.
